The Macarena
by singsongsung
Summary: No.9. Rory/Logan. It's her wedding day, and Rory's not where she's supposed to be. What else is there to do but freak? Pretty fluffy.


**The Macarena **

**A/N: **Hey, another fic! I can write again!!! I know that you all want to know what happens after **Winning and Losing**. I love that you all have opinions about whether or not he did cheat on her. I know it was a cruel cliffhanger, and you should feel free to hate me, but be patient. The one after that is going to be really hard for me to write.

I love you guys! Please, please review. Read on!

She wakes up at 4:48 on the day of her wedding. She feels disoriented and a little bit hung-over. She knows she's not at any of the places she calls home: Stars Hollow, her apartment with Logan, or the house they just bought. She realizes, as she opens her eyes, that she's in a hotel, which does make sense, she's just not sure why.

She looks at the night table. There's a pad of paper and a pen on it next to the alarm clock. She reads the tiny letters on the pen and knows, for sure, that she's in a hotel. The only thing is, she thought that she was staying at a different one. As she looks around, she's sure that she's in the wrong room. In front of her, and can see a painting on the wall, the hallway leading to the door to the room and the door to the bathroom, and, in her peripheral vision, a tiny bit of the boxy TV. The wallpaper is a little trashy, and clearly very old. She's definitely in the wrong place. _Her_ hotel room has elegant fleur-de-lis wallpaper and the TV has a plasma screen.

She shifts, a little worried about not knowing where she is, and feels a gentle weight draped over her. An arm. An arm that she recognizes well- Logan's.

She makes a face, trying to remember what had happened last night. She remembers her mother setting a tiara with a veil attached on her head. She remembers Lane's laughter, a glass of champagne in her hand, and Stephanie yelling, "Go Rory!" She winces at that last memory, unsure of what Steph had been encouraging. Gradually, she pieces things together. The girls had started off in a private room of a fancy hotel having champagne with her grandmother. Emily had left a couple hours later and the girls had polished off several bottles of champagne. She remembers Lorelai declaring that they should go for a pub crawl, and after that she remembers clambering into a cab, giggling, and a lot of drinking and…dancing? Oh, shit. Stephanie's voice makes it's way back into her memories, and Rory remembers dancing with an unfamiliar guy. She remembers doing 'the shopping cart', 'the fireman', 'shuffling the deck', and dimly, she recalls breaking into the Macarena with Lane.

In a flash of near-horrified embarrassment, she remembers some guy's wandering hands and that hers weren't exactly still, either. And, to top it all off, she realizes that she'd stood on tiptoe to whisper into his ear, "Bet you wish I wasn't engaged."

After that (thank God) she remembers Lorelai saying, "We'd better get her home."

Apparently, however, she did not end up at 'home'. She remembered Paris' objection that they only had one more bar to hit, and lo and behold, the guys were there. She remembers sneaking up on Logan and whispering, "Hey, sexy," in his ear. She recalls dancing that could have been classified as 'dirty'- but at least she was with her about-to-be husband. After that, there was one last cab, and – holy crap, had she made out with Logan in the back of a cab? When they'd finally stumbled out, it'd been at a semi-rundown hotel and…here she was.

She can't believe it. After all the intense planning they'd done so that they would remain apart at night and not see each other until the ceremony, here she was. She groans internally. Did Lorelai even know where she'd gone? Emily would throw a fit if Rory was missing when she arrived in the morning. And, undoubtedly, she'd arrive around six o'clock.

Well. She only has one choice, really. She has to drag her butt out of bed and somehow make her way back. If Logan had been as drunk as she'd been, he might not even realize that she'd been there.

He shifts in his sleep, pulling her closer, and she can't resist smiling. In twelve hours, they'll be married, she thinks, looking at the clock again, which now reads 5:00 am. She still has trouble believing that they're engaged. Years ago, she'd never believe anyone who told her that Logan Huntzberger would settle down. The day he'd committed, she'd been amazed. But, remarkably, it hadn't stopped there. They'd moved in together. They got engaged. They went on a trip to Asia. He surprised her with a trip to France, and, in the most adorable, corniest way, proposed to her at the top of the Eifel Tower. And now, today, they were getting married.

They'd even discussed their future. Future! This was live-in-the-moment man, as Rory sometimes called him teasingly. He'd admitted to her, on a quiet evening when they were in Japan, that he wanted to have kids. He wanted to have kids and he wanted to be there. She'd felt a swelling of emotion then, the kind she didn't even know how to express. "Ace?" he'd asked gently, and it was only then that she'd realized that she was crying.

She cuddles closer to him for a moment, thinking of that night. He shifts in his sleep and she draws in a quick breath. Thankfully, he settles again on his back. She repositions herself so that she's pressed against him, her chin resting on his shoulder.

He blinks twice, opening his eyes. "Hey, beautiful," he murmurs sleepily. "What time is it?"

Rory sits up, alarmed. "Don't look at me," she cries, throwing the sheet over his head. When he finally managed to disentangle himself from the mess of white cotton, she was standing up and looking around, wearing the jeans she calling her 'dancing pants' and her bra.

"Stop looking at me!" she exclaims.

"Ace," he says languorously. "I have seen every inch of you."

She rolls her eyes and her nostrils flare. Logan realizes that these are signs of serious agitation, but she's so adorable when she's upset.

"Logan…" the single word is fierce, so he flops onto his side so that he can no longer see her.

"Happy?"

"Very," she snaps, and he realizes that she's probably as hung-over as he is.

"Sorry, babe. What's going on?"

"Have you seen my shirt?" she demands, sounding completely frustrating.

"Ace…how am I supposed to look for your shirt if I can't even turn around?"

"You're so _irritating_, Huntzberger. Why am I marrying you?"

"Because you think I'm sexy. And you want my body," he states seriously.

"Ha," she says scornfully. "You think you're _so_ witty."

"Hey, you said it first," he retorts.

"Wh-what?"

He grins and sits up, turning to face her. "Last night, Ace."

She buries her face in his tie, the only other item of clothing that she can locate. "Oh, God."

He laughs, stands, and goes over to hug her. "Don't worry, Ror, it's okay. We're getting married, after all."

She throws his tie into his face angrily and places her hands on her hips. "Help me find my shirt," she orders harshly.

He snaps to attention like a soldier and practically bellows, "Ma'am, yes, ma'am!"

The people in the room next door bang on the wall and yell, "Keep it down, buddy!" Rory hears a female voice contribute, "Yeah, a little less volume with whatever kinky game you're playing! Some people are trying to sleep!"

Too late, Logan recognizes the fury that's risen in Rory's stunning eyes. "Ace-" he begins quickly, but she's too far gone.

She marches out of the room, into the hallway, and knocks furiously on the door next to theirs before she realizes that she's not wearing a shirt. She's frozen in panic momentarily, and before she can move, the door opens.

A guy around her age stares at her angrily before his expression morphs into one of shock. His eyes linger on her chest, and it's all Rory needs to regain her fury.

"I'm getting married today," she snaps viciously. "And I am _trying_ to find my shirt so that I can get back to the hotel where I'm staying so that my grandmother does not have a heart attack. It's not my fault that my fiancé, who isn't even supposed to be here because it's the day of our wedding and he's not supposed to see me, cannot keep his voice down. So just go back to your little lives and let me enjoy my wedding day, if that's okay. _Is_ that okay?" When he doesn't answer immediately she snaps her fingers and practically growls, "I'm up here."

He averts his gaze quickly and then meets her eyes. "Uh, sorry. Carry on."

"_Thank_ you." She storms back to her own room and yells, "How could you let me leave our hotel room without a shirt on?"

She's having the kind of freak-out that only she can have, Logan knows. She doesn't spaz often, but when she does it's brutal, and occasionally shades of Emily Gilmore. Her freak-outs are all-out craziness, but they happen so rarely that he tends to forget about that.

But, thankfully, she bursts out laughing. "I can't believe I just did that. I can't believe all that stuff I did last night! What a day…"

He grins. "It can only get better."

She gives him her Bambi eyes. "I don't have a shirt."

"Yeah, I know, it's…well, it was off by the time we got out of the elevator."

Her jaw drops. "Are you _serious_?"

"Yes?"

"Is that a _question_?"

"No?"

She cracks an unwilling smile. "We're getting married today."

"So I heard. Very loudly," he adds with a smirk. "You probably traumatized that poor guy."

"It's my wedding day," she says simply, as if that gives her the right to do whatever she wants.

"Ooh, Huntzberger attitude already," he teases, kissing her. "Here, wear my shirt. You'll probably be able to change before Emily gets there."

She looks at the clock again and smiles wryly. "No chance in hell." She leans in close to him. "If anyone asks, you haven't seen me today."

"Of course not," he says obediently.

She kisses him firmly and hurries off, ignoring her messy hair and red eyes.

He stares after her and shakes his head affectionately.

Much later that day, he sees her again, but she no longer looks agitated and hung-over. He hates to call her a vision but he can think of no other description. Her dress is white and perfect and her smile is bright and adoring. Her arm is hooked through her grandfather's (she couldn't choose between Luke and Chris, it was a battle of being there vs. blood relation) and she's looking at him with so much love in her eyes. He remembers her freak-out that morning and is pretty sure she's perfect.


End file.
